Three Wishes, Christmas Future
by MLaw
Summary: Napoleon and Illya spend an evening out together, just before the Russian Orthodox Christmas. The third and final installment to the December PicFic challenge for section7mfu on Live Journal. The cover pic was the prompt. pre-saga.


**Christmas future**

Napoleon Solo whistled cheerfully as he walked down the grey corridor in headquarters leading to the office he shared with his partner.

It was a day before the eve of the Russian Orthodox Christmas, and even though Illya did not observe the holy day, Napoleon suspected it held an important place in the man's heart. The fact that it was the last time most of his family was alive and together surely had meaning to him.

Napoleon recalled that night in Paris, just a year ago when Illya had let his guard down and told him of that eve he spent in church with his mother, grandmother and younger siblings. It was no doubt a treasured but heartbreaking memory for his partner. The gifts he received that night were now memories as well, all of them were gone.

To suffer such personal loss was almost incomprehensible to Solo, as he was raised as a child of privilege and still had things given to him when he was but a little boy as well a family. Those possessions were of no consequence when compared to what Illya had lost.

With Napoleon's Catholic upbringing it was nearing the end of Christmas celebrations with the Feast of the Epiphany. He'd decided while he still held the holiday spirit in his heart, to try to somehow cheer up his partner. That was just one of many promises the American had made to himself when it came to the man who had become his best friend.

They'd been through a lot this past year, and nearly bought the farm a few times, but still they'd managed to survive and continue to fight the good fight. That alone deserved some sort of celebration, and that's what he told his partner it was after he'd made his secretive plans. It was a 'we made it through another year' evening out together..

He decided to take Illya to his favorite restaurant called the 'Odessa' located in the Brighton Beach section in Brooklyn. Solo hoped the food from home and being surrounded by his own people might cheer him up. He knew Illya would go there when feeling a bit homesick, so it made sense to take him there now. Napoleon secretly hoped doing so might help revive his partner's Christmas spirit, at least that was the plan, behind the plan.

.

When he reached his office the doors opened silently, revealing his partner putting on his woolen coat.

Napoleon looked at his watch. "In a rush?"

Illya blushed. "No, but I suppose I am looking forward to a good meal as I am feeling a bit peckish."

"Peckish?"

"Yes, peckish,"

Napoleon shook his head at his partner's use of that particular word. Illya seemed to get the British vernacular fine, but it was the American sayings that still eluded him.

"So until now you've felt pretty good, the moods all right?"

Illya clicked his tongue. "I do not have to be out of sorts to go the Odessa, though I suppose I have become somewhat predictable as to where I go when feeling down, have I not?"

"Only to me _tovarisch._ Come on, since you're so anxious, let's get going. I'm sure your friend Oksana will be happy to see you and your peckish self."

The traffic on the FDR Drive and Battery Tunnel was a little congested, but surprisingly lightened up on the Belt Parkway; Napoleon supposing most of the holiday travel had run its course. Christmas and New Years had passed and life for most people in New York was returning to its routine.

As they opened the door to the restaurant, they were greeted with sparkling Christmas lights and a beautiful tree standing tall at the rear of the dining area.

Oksana greeted the two men enthusiastically and Illya returned her embrace, kissing her on both cheeks.

"It has been a long time my _volchonka_wolf cub._ And it is good to see you too Mr. Napoleon. It makes me happy know this one is with a good friend. Come, come, sit and I will bring you some of my good Russian food. I hope you have empty bellies as we have many courses. Tonight I serve my version of Holy Supper, though I know it is a bit early. Many of my customers do not go to the church any more, but still miss the ritual meal with family... so many are alone like our Illya here."

Oksana took the time to explain some of the Russian Christmas traditions to the American. "The food served during the Holy Supper represent one of the 12 apostles. It is a Lenten meal, without meat, and begins with prayer led by the eldest father of the family. The mother of the family then blesses each member with a cross of honey on the forehead before beginning the meal. Those things we will not do here, but the meal itself will be served the traditional way."

Napoleon had never heard of the of the Holy Supper and thanked Oksana for telling him about it. He watched Illya, almost dreamy-eyed as each course arrived; the Russian seemed lost in a world of memories.

When the supper concluded, Napoleon pulled out a small, golden gift box from his pocket, holding it out in front of Illya. "I know I'm not Father Frost, but Merry Christmas my friend."

"Napoleon, you should not have done this. You said this was supposed to be a celebration of surviving another year and not for Christmas. Besides, I gave you no gift for your Christmas...really the meal was more than enough, please."

"Nope, sorry I lied," Napoleon refused, moving the package closer to his partner.

Illya relented, taking the box from him and carefully opening it. Inside was an old brass pocket watch. His eyes opened wide as he removed it slowly, almost reverently.

His face remained placid, but the barest quivering of his lower lip betrayed he was experiencing some very strong emotions.

"Napoleon..._it _ is my grandfather's watch. How did you do this?" He stuttered in amazement.

"No, that's impossible," he answered, thinking Illya was just imagining things.

"I bought it in a little antique store in West Germany when I was on assignment there a few weeks ago. I thought it would just remind you of happier times in life. I apologize if it's upsetting you, that wasn't my intention."

"I tell you it is," Illya swore." He took out his pearl handled switchblade from his jacket pocket and used it to pry open the back of the watch. Inside a hidden compartment was an aged piece of paper carefully folded up. He let out a barely perceptible gasp at the sight of it.

"My mother's letter..."

He opened it oh so carefully, staring at the yellowed paper and the neatly written words. He read the message aloud for the first time, never having done so before, as he'd kept the paper safe inside the watch for the short time he had it, before the Nazis took it.

"_Мой дорогой сын, не хватает слов в нашем языке, чтобы рассказать вам, как сильно я тебя люблю. Знайте, что вы всегда будете в сердце вашей матери, и я даю тебе всю свою любовь, мечты и надежды на лучшую жизнь для вас.Что бы вы ни делали в жизни, я всегда буду гордиться тобой мой маленький волчонок. Со многими поцелуями, мама_my dearest son, there are not enough words in our language to tell you how much I love you. Know that you will always be in your mother's heart and I give you all my love, hopes and dreams for a better life for you. Whatever you do in life, I will always be proud of you my little wolf cub. With many kisses, Mama._

Illya could no longer hold back his emotions, and rose quickly from his chair, knocking it over as he rushed out the door.

He stood in the cold, wiping the tears from his eyes as his partner came out after him.

A light snow began to fall around them as the Russian turned to his friend, still in shock at what had happened.

Napoleon was completely astonished, as he had not even remotely considered looking for Illya's heirloom, and the odds of having stumbled upon it by accident were simply astronomical. What made him choose this particular watch when there were so many in the shop? He wondered for a moment if there might have been an unseen hand somehow gently guiding him to it as he remembered his prayer to God the previous Christmas in Paris.

"Thank you my friend," Illya wiped his eyes with his handkerchief. "I do not understand how this is possible, yet here they are..." He held the watch and letter out in front of himself, looking like a wide-eyed child. .

Napoleon clasped his hand on the Russians shoulder, giving it a squeeze. "Neither do I my friend. Shall we just call it a little Christmas miracle and leave it at that?"

"Da." Illya bowed his head.

They walked back into the Odessa, and seated themselves at their table. Oksana realized something had happened, but didn't know what. She brought a bottle of vodka and glasses to them, sensing they needed to toast to something.

A short while later, as a surprise for her customers, Oksana re-appeared dressed in a costume as a snowman, tables were pushed back and her two charming nieces bedecked in their white and pink dresses, serenaded everyone with a rendition of "We wish you a Merry Christmas," while someone accompanied them on a guitar.

Illya filled his and Napoleon's glasses, while he grinned, watching the children with delight.

Napoleon's wish for Illya to have happiness this Christmas had come true...

"To friendship," he said, raising his glass.

"To family," Illya replied, "Merry Christmas."

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Note from author: I know it seems rather far-fetched that Napoleon would just accidentally find Illya's grandfathers watch, but such things do happen in life. I based this fic on a personal experience.

For years my mother spoke of a ruby ring she had lost when she was young, there was never a photo of it, nor did she describe it other than it having a single ruby stone. As an adult I ended up working in the jewelry trade and happened upon a second-hand ruby ring that was an older style setting, very plain with a single stone.

It was in excellent condition and after cleaning it up, I gave it to mom for her birthday. When she opened the box, she literally screamed, "My ring! How did you find my ring!" Once she calmed down and looked at it carefully, she told me it was identical to the ring she had lost more than fifty years ago. She believed I had found her ring until the day she died. And you know what, I believed I did too. Sometimes little miracles can happen.


End file.
